


The Eye of the Storm

by kalirush



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood Loss, Ed gets his arm smashed up, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Shameless, The Elrics have somewhere to go home to
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-27
Updated: 2011-06-29
Packaged: 2017-10-20 18:40:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/215904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalirush/pseuds/kalirush
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One evening in Rush Valley, the Elric brothers show up on Winry's doorstep in desperate need of help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Elric brothers come home

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place in between when Winry leaves after the incident with Scar and when she meets up with Ed and Al at Briggs. I started writing it after I had seen episode 23 of Brotherhood, knowing that it was going to get jossed immediately. Consider it a canon divergence- what if Ed and Al had needed to visit Winry before they worked out that they had to head North after Mei?

Half the people in Rush Valley clank when they walk. It took some getting used to when she first came to stay, the clanking. She hadn’t really understood then why so many amputees chose to stay after they’d had their new limbs fitted. Almost no one in the town was _from_ Rush Valley- Winry fit right in, that way. Eventually, though, she’d come to understand: having an automail limb anywhere else in Amestria made you a cripple; having one in Rush Valley made you a neighbor.

So she didn’t think much about it when she heard someone clanking up her walk, not at first. She was in the middle of an important adjustment, after all, and Winry was nothing if not focused when she worked. It wasn’t until the sound came closer and she could hear that ring of hollowness to the clanking that she dropped her tools and jumped to her feet.

“Al?” she said, running to the door, “Is that you?” And then she stopped.

Walking carefully, gingerly, up to her door was Al’s hulking armored body. He was carrying a smaller body in his arms, broken and bloody. It had blond hair. Winry’s hands flew to her mouth. “Ed-” she started, and stopped. “Al- you _idiot_. What happened? And what are you doing here? You should have taken him to a hospital! I’m an automail mechanic, moron, I can’t-” She broke off. “Get him inside,” she said, pointing. “You can put him on my table.”

“You were the closest,” Al said, his voice sounding small inside the armor. “He was bleeding a lot, and I was scared to go too far away, Winry!” He laid Ed down on the bed that Mr. Garfiel used for automail surgeries, his movements startlingly gentle for a huge hunk of metal.

Winry shook her head. There were a lot of doctors in Rush Valley, but the nearest hospital was the next town over. “I’m calling for Doctor Hess,” she snapped.

“Okay,” Al said.

Winry looked over at Ed. “Dammit,” she said, and shoved the phone into Al’s hands. “You’re going to call Doctor Hess. I’m going to try to stop him from bleeding to death before the doctor gets here.”

“Okay,” Al said.

Winry really wasn’t trained for this. In Resembool, Granny had always done the surgeries. Winry had only assisted. She was so good with the metal, she’d never delved too deeply into what to do with the flesh. Still, she knew the signs of shock. She knew that bleeding was bad, and something about how to stop it. Winry wasn’t trained, but she knew when she had to step up and do _something_.

Ed was lying on the table, his chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven shudders. Without thinking about it, Winry took stock of his automail. His arm was destroyed- again- and his leg would need serious repair as well. She shook her head. The automail could wait. The wounds on his side and shoulder wouldn’t. Someone- Al?- had torn Ed’s shirt and tied hasty bandages around them. They were soaked and sticky with blood. She reached for the gauze pads they kept in the surgery, and bound them tightly onto the worst of his wounds, hoping the pressure would slow the bleeding. Behind her, she could hear Al’s voice, asking for the doctor, telling him to come. She was tying off the second bandage when he came back into the room.

“He said it’ll only take him a few minutes,” Al said, and Winry could hear the worry in his voice.

“Doctor Hess’s house is just down the street,” Winry said. “I’m sure he’ll grab his tools and be right over.”

“Is Brother okay?” Al asked, looking down at Ed. “I tried to bandage him, but I never learned much about medicine. I should have learned more medical alchemy!” He rapped a fist on his helmet. “Stupid!” he said, miserably.

“I don’t know if he’ll be okay, Al,” she said, brushing her hair out of her eyes. Her hands were covered in Ed’s blood, and the sight of it made her sick. “We have to have hope, though, right? And he’s strong. You know he won’t go anywhere until he’s kept his promise to you. He’s too stubborn.” Her voice cracked a little at the end. She sunk into a chair, staring at Ed. His body was splattered with blood, and he was covered in bruises and little cuts. “What was it this time?” she asked. “Homunculi?”

“If it was homunculi, they wouldn’t have tried to kill us,” Al said, miserably. “It was chimeras. I don’t know why they were there. They just came out of nowhere!” Al was smeared with Ed’s blood, and Winry saw now where something had taken chunks out of his armor. “Brother and I fought them off, but there were so many of them-” His voice trailed off. His shoulders sagged, and Winry could see his fear even through his expressionless metal face. “We were on our way here anyway so that you could fix Brother’s automail again, so I thought I should bring him here.”

Winry fought back tears. She went to the sink and rinsed her hands. Looking in the mirror, she saw a smudge of blood across her forehead. She wiped that away, too. She could see Ed behind her in the mirror, unmoving, his golden hair tinged with red. “Oh, Al,” she said, leaning against the sink. “It seems like I only ever see the two of you when you’ve gotten yourselves hurt.”

“Those are the times we need someone to come home to,” Al said, quietly.

It was too much. Winry’s legs wouldn’t hold her anymore. She dropped to her knees, and the tears wouldn’t stop coming.

“Winry?” Al said, concerned. “Winry, it’ll be okay! I know it will! The doctor will be here soon, and Brother will get better, and-”

Winry pulled herself up. “I’m sorry, Al,” she said, wiping her eyes. She was needed; she didn’t have time to go to pieces. “You’re right. He’ll be fine, I know he will.”

Doctor Hess arrived just then. He examined Ed, making concerned noises about ribs and internal bleeding. “It’s a good thing you’ve got a surgery here, Miss Rockbell,” he said, and started the process of putting Ed back together. Winry assisted him, just like she’d always assisted Granny. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen Ed on an operating table. She swallowed the bile that kept rising in her throat. She had to keep moving.

Ed woke twice in the course of the surgery. Both times, his eyes were wild from pain and fear as he screamed Al’s name. He looked right through Winry without seeming to see her at all. “Brother!” Al cried, moving from the corner where he’d been standing, still and silent, out of their way. “It’s okay, Brother. They’re helping you, it’s okay.” Then Doctor Hess gave Ed more drugs, and they were able to continue working in blessed silence.

It was almost dawn before they were done. “He’s at risk for infection here,” Doctor Hess said, wearily. “It might be better to try to move him to a hospital.”

“We can keep him clean,” Winry said. “It’s not that different from recovering from automail surgery.”

“I suppose not,” Hess said, gruffly. “I’ll come and check on him this evening. See you keep an eye on his temperature, and his blood pressure. If it starts to drop-”

“It means the bleeding’s started again.” Winry nodded. It was basic post-op procedure.

Doctor Hess sighed. “You always keep cool in a crisis, Winry. You’d make a good doctor, if you didn’t like automail so much.”

Memories of her parents flashed through her head. Winry nodded, silently, not trusting herself to speak. She helped Doctor Hess pack his tools, and waved goodbye to him as he headed back to his home.

“Is Brother going to be alright?” Al asked, and she realized that he was standing at her shoulder. She turned, and found herself face to chest with pitted, blood-splashed armor. “He’d better be,” she sighed. “Who else is going to fix you up?” She took him by the hand. “Come on,” she said, “We should get you cleaned off at least.”

Against her will, she found herself yawning as she helped Al wipe himself down. “You should get some sleep,” Al said, concern clear in his voice.

“Will you be okay?” she asked, sponging off another spot of blood. “I can stay up a while longer if I need to.”

“I’ll be fine,” Al said. He was probably lying, of course. “I can check on Brother, just like the doctor said to,” he added, and his voice sounded a little brighter.

“Alright,” Winry said, rubbing her eyes. She’d be no good to anyone if she didn’t get some rest soon. “I’ll just sleep in one of the cots next to the surgery. Wake me up if anything changes with him.”

\---------------

Ed was still asleep when she woke up. Alphonse was sitting next to him, looking intently at Ed’s face.

“Morning, Al,” she said, wiping sleep out of her eyes. “How’s he doing?”

“The same,” Al said, his voice echoing from his armor. “No fever, and his blood pressure’s the same. That’s good, right?”

She smiled. “It’s good.” She stretched. “I’m going to change. Do you want me to wash that loin cloth for you?”

Al looked down as if seeing the blood on the fabric around his waist for the first time. “No,” he said quickly, embarrassment plain in his voice. “No, it’s okay, I’ll do it myself.”

“Suit yourself,” she said, shrugging. The idea of a hulking suit of armor being shy about taking his clothes off was funny, but very _Al_.

When she came back a little while later (showered and dressed in clean clothes), he was still sitting in the same place. He’d washed his clothes as promised, but she was pretty sure he hadn’t moved otherwise. “Hey, Al,” she said, and smiled. “There’s no food in the house, and I need breakfast. So will Ed, when he wakes up. Why don’t you go get some things from the market?” There was food in the kitchen, but Al didn’t need to know that.

“Okay, Winry,” he said, stirring. He glanced back to Ed.

“I’ll be here with him,” she said, gently. “Here, let me write you out a list.”

And then she was alone with Edward. He was breathing well, and when she touched his forehead, his skin was cool. It occurred to her that she should probably change his bandages; they had surely soaked through while she slept. Trying to keep her touch as light as possible, she cut the gauze and peeled it away from his body. The wounds looked ugly, but they were clean and neatly stitched now, at least. She couldn’t help but see the way they overlaid the scars from other, older fights. It couldn’t be good, she thought, for him to get hurt so often while he was still so young. She reached out, brushing his skin with the tips of her fingers.

“Winry!” She looked up, startled. Ed grabbed her wrist with his flesh hand, his fingers like a vise. He was awake, his eyes wild. “What the hell are you doing here?” he asked, desperately. “Run! Run, dammit!”

“It’s okay, Ed,” she told him, her heart beating fast. “The fight’s over.” She reached down, trying to gently disengage his hand. “Al brought you to my shop. You’re safe.”

He relaxed, let his arm drop. “Oh,” he said. He looked at her, his golden eyes lidded with exhaustion and pain. “I’m sorry,” he said, leaning his head back. “I never wanted to make you cry again.”

Winry suddenly realized that her eyes were filled with tears. She hadn’t even noticed. “I’m not crying,” she said, wiping the offending liquid from her eyes, “just go back to sleep, idiot.”

He obliged her.


	2. Chapter 2

He was still sleeping when Al returned. “Winry?” he called, “I got the food you asked for. Where should I put it?”

She got up, glancing back at Ed. “I can put it away,” she said, walking into the next room. She smiled at him. “I better cook some breakfast,” she said. “Or lunch, I guess.”

“How is Brother?” Al said, looking past her into the surgery.

“He woke up,” she said. “Sort of; I don’t think he was really awake. But it’s a good sign.”

“Oh!” Al said. “Do you think he’ll wake up again soon?”

Winry shrugged. “You know how it is when someone’s hurt. Ed sleeps all the time anyway, and it only makes sense that he’ll sleep even more when he’s injured.”

“Maybe I should go sit with him,” Al said, turning towards the surgery.

“He’s just in the other room,” Winry said. “We’ll know if he wakes up. Why don’t you keep me company while I cook? I think I’ll make some soup,” she added. “When he wakes up, he can have some. Besides, soup is pretty much the only way I can get him to drink his milk, huh?” She smiled, trying to be cheerful for Al’s sake.

“Brother does hate milk,” Al said, and she had the sense that he was trying to be cheerful for her sake, too.

They talked while she cooked. Mostly, Winry talked and Al listened. She told him about Paninya and Mr. Garfiel and Satella and the baby, and everything else she could think of to tell him. He was interested, he laughed in the right places, but she noticed that he volunteered almost nothing about what he and Ed had been up to lately.

When she was done with the soup, she tidied up the kitchen, and the surgery, and was halfway into cleaning up her workroom when she heard someone banging on the door. “What is it?” Winry called, irritable. “It’s our day off; we’re closed. Come back tomorrow.” She opened the door.

“Can’t a friend come visit?” grinned Paninya. “I heard Ed and Al were in town,” she said, barging in. “I thought I’d come say-” She stopped short, as she entered the surgery, her mouth dropping open. “Hi, Al,” she said, closing her mouth.

“Hi, Paninya,” Al said, from where he was sitting next to Ed’s bedside. “How are you doing?”

“Better than you guys, apparently,” she said. “I hadn’t heard that Ed was all beat up.”

“I’d rather everyone didn’t know,” Winry said, frowning. Until they knew why Ed and Al had been attacked, it was probably best to keep it quiet.

“Okay, okay,” Paninya said. “He sure is accident-prone, though. How many times have you had to replace that arm?”

Winry sighed. “I’m going to have to do it again, and I’m not sure I’ll be able to get it done by the time he’s ready to use it.”

Paninya snorted. “I’ve been in the same pair of legs since I stopped growing,” she said. “He’s lucky he’s got you around to fix him up.”

“We know,” Al said. “We know that.”

“Ed’s resting now,” Winry said, suddenly. “But I’m gonna need some parts if I’m going to build Ed another arm from scratch. If I give you a list, could you pick some things up for me?” A shopping mission had worked to get Al on his feet and moving; it might also work to get Paninya out of her hair. “Just tell them to put it on my account.” She started scribbling on a piece of paper.

“Sure, sure,” Paninya said. “Whatever you want.” She rolled her eyes. “I won’t mention that Ed’s hurt. Don’t worry, everyone will just assume that he’s holed up in here with you.” Just in case Winry hadn’t gotten the message, she started making kissy faces.

“Thanks, Paninya,” Winry said firmly, handing her the list. She could feel her face turning red. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Fine,” Paninya said, laughing, and left.

“Sorry, Al,” Winry said, not sure what she was apologizing for. She liked Paninya, but she could be so _embarrassing_ sometimes.

Just then, Ed stirred again. “Al?” he croaked.

“Brother?” Al said, excited. “You’re awake!”

“Yeah, Al,” Ed said, opening his eyes and staring at the ceiling. “Where are we?”

“You’re in Rush Valley,” Winry said, turning pink. She hoped _really hard_ that Ed hadn’t heard what Paninya had just said.

“Ah.” Ed said, turning to look at her. “Are you going to yell at me for breaking your automail again?”

“I’ve been waiting for you to wake up for that,” she said. “Speaking of which- if you’re awake, I should check your automail over. I don’t like the look of your ports.”

He turned a little to give her better access to his arm. Winry took her tools and began the process of removing what was left of the arm. “Why are you being so nice to me, Winry?” Ed asked, his voice hoarse and tired.

“Idiot,” she said, sharply, and smacked him in the head with her hand. “I’m not being nice to you.”

“You didn’t hit me with your wrench,” Ed pointed out.

“Idiot,” she repeated, and leaned into her work, turning her face so that he couldn’t see her eyes. “Two of your ribs are broken,” she said, after a while.

“I figured that out,” he said, pointedly. “I’m not stupid.”

“So don’t go trying move around,” she said, ignoring him. “It’ll only take longer to heal. You had some bleeding inside you, too, and-” She shook her head. “I’m going to disconnect your arm now,” she told him. He stiffened, bracing for the pain. He grunted softly as she disengaged the nerve connections. It was just as painful as engaging them, she’d been told, but at least it was over sooner. She looked down at the arm, frowning. It was junk. She would probably be able to salvage parts from it later, but for now it was better to start fresh. Setting it aside, she leaned down and began inspecting the port.

“How long was I out?” Ed asked.

“Most of a day,” she answered. Her voice sounded clipped, angry, and she wasn’t sure why. “You woke up a little bit this afternoon, but I don’t know if you remember that. Are you hungry?”

“A little,” he said, staring off into space while she prodded him.

Al stood up, his armor clanking. “I’ll get you some soup, then, Brother,” he said, and made to go to the kitchen.

“Thanks, Al,” Ed said, wearily.

Winry worked in silence. She examined the join between Ed's flesh and the port for his arm. The shiny scar tissue there was normal; forcing flesh to bond to metal causes unavoidable trauma. The pinkness and ropiness of Ed's scars was not normal, however. Ed always pushed himself too far, too hard. Automail was never meant to be knocked around as much as Ed did it, not in a body that was still growing. "You see, moron?" she snapped at him suddenly, tapping at a particularly red patch of tissue. "I'm going to have to check the whole housing, and you'll be lucky if you don't have to have more surgery. And that's not even taking into account that I'm going to have to build you a new arm, _again_ , you inconsiderate idiot!" By the end, she was screaming and brandishing a wrench.

“Er,” said Al, appearing in the doorway with a bowl. “Winry?”

She picked up her tools and ran. When it came to Ed, she didn’t know why screaming always stood in for words like _‘I’m afraid for you’_ or _‘please, at least_ try _to stay safe’_ or even _‘I love you’_. Somehow, the words she meant to say never quite came out.

She wasn’t crying when Al came out to check on her. “I’m sorry,” she said, picking up her tools again. “He just woke up; I shouldn’t be yelling at him yet.”

“I think Brother would worry if you didn’t,” Al said, and she knew that if Al had a body, he’d be smiling at her. “The doctor just came,” he added. “I thought you might want to talk to him.”

Doctor Hess was prodding Ed’s side gently as she entered the room. “Hello, Doctor Hess,” she said. “How’s Ed doing?”

“As well as we can expect,” he said, looking up at her. He frowned. “The blood loss is the major problem at the moment. You’ll need fluids, and lots of rest,” he said, turning to Ed. “You can expect to be tired all the time while your body works at making new blood to replace what it lost. And you need to try not to move, or you’ll risk re-opening your wounds. Do you understand?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ed said, turning away. “I’ve done this before, you know.” He sounded so exhausted.

Doctor Hess packed up his bag. “He really will be fine,” he told Winry. “We got his wounds closed in time, and there’s no sign of infection. Just keep an eye on him.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” she said, and her smile wasn’t all politeness.

When she came back in the room after seeing the doctor out, she noticed the empty soup bowl on the tray next to Ed’s bed. She approached Ed cautiously, picking the bowl up to take it into the other room. “I’m glad you were able to eat,” she said, and she tried to make it mean _I’m sorry_ and _I was just so frightened for you_ at the same time.

“Yeah,” Ed answered. “You make good soup, Winry.” _It’s okay_ , she could almost hear. _I’m sorry I worried you._

\-----------------------

Ed fell asleep again soon after that, and Winry called Mr. Garfiel. Tomorrow there would be patients streaming in, and Winry wasn’t sure about what to do with Ed. Mr. Garfiel came over from his home as soon as she explained the situation.

“Al!” he cried, embracing the younger Elric brother. “Oh, you boys have gotten yourselves into another mess, haven’t you?”

“Er,” said Al, patting the older man on the back awkwardly.

Mr. Garfiel screeched when he saw Ed, still asleep, covered in bandages. “Winry, darling!” he said, with horror in his voice, “Look at what he’s done to your beautiful _automail!_ ”

“We can probably move him into a hotel in the morning, Mr. Garfiel,” she told him, earnestly, after they’d got done discussing the technical particulars of Ed’s automail. “I don’t want him to be in your way.” There was just no way that the workshop could function with an incapacitated Ed in the middle of it. Aside from space considerations, she shuddered to think what he might say to her customers.

“No, darling,” Mr. Garfiel said, firmly, “I won’t hear of it. The boys come to us, injured, and we throw them out into the street? Absolutely not. We’ll close the shop for tomorrow, and then after that, we’ll see.”

“Thank you, Mr. Garfiel,” she said, swallowing a lump in her throat. She was absolutely not going to cry if she could help it.


	3. Chapter 3

Winry decided to sleep in one of the patient cots again. She didn’t need to; Al would stay with Ed (of course), and she had a far more comfortable bed in her room over the shop. Still, she felt better about being closer to Ed and Al, if they needed her.

It ended up not mattering- after twenty minutes, it became clear that the technical schematics whirling through her head weren’t going to let her sleep anyway. Sighing, she got up, scratching her ribs under the tanktop she usually wore at night.

“Winry?” Al said, quietly, when she crept into the room. “I thought you were going to bed.” Ed was still sleeping, his chest rising and falling evenly.

“I thought I’d get some work done on his new arm,” she whispered. “If I don’t get it finished by the time he’s on his feet, I’ll never hear the end of the whining.”

“I don’t think you have to stay up late to get his arm finished this time,” Al pointed out, a little mournfully. Ed wouldn’t be on his feet faster than she could finish it, of course. “You should be resting, too, Winry.”

Winry smiled at that. Ed got all the attention, but Al had always been the one who worried about other people. “It’s okay,” she said, quietly. “I can’t sleep anyway, so I might as well get some work done!” Then she leaned in and hugged him, avoiding the spikes on his armor.

Al clanked, and it sounded like embarrassment to her. “You know that I can’t feel it when you do that,” he said.

“I know,” she answered him. “But you can think of it as a promise for when you get your body back.” She said _when_ and not _if_ , because the habit of optimism was deeply ingrained in all three of them. Besides- Ed had seemed to have real hope, the last time they talked about it.

“Thanks, Winry,” Al said, his voice echoing as it always did. “Not just for the hug, I mean. For taking care of Brother, and- everything.”

She glanced at Ed, his face pale and lined with pain even in sleep. “Thank you, Al,” she said, softly. “For bringing him to me to take care of.” Suddenly, that was too much raw emotion to deal with, there, alone in the room with the Elric brothers. “Al, can you hand me that socket wrench?” she asked. “It’s on the bench behind you.”

Socket wrench in hand, she headed for her workshop.

\--------------------

Winry woke with the handle of a screwdriver pressing uncomfortably into her cheekbone. This was nothing new; it had happened many times before. She took a moment to check her face for any screws, nuts, or bits of wiring that might have lodged there, and then looked down to make sure that she hadn’t damaged anything she had been working on by falling asleep on it. This was a familiar process for her; she’d been falling asleep on automail since she was a child.

“Brother!” It was Al’s voice, obviously distressed. She suddenly realized what must have woken her up, and she was on her feet like a shot. “Brother, please!”

She bolted into the hallway, and turned to see Ed upright and trying to walk. Al was right behind him, his hands out as though he were afraid to touch Ed for fear of breaking him. Ed staggered along, his flesh arm tucked protectively around his wounded torso, his automail shoulder leaning against the wall. “Dammit, Al,” he was saying, his face screwed tight with determination, “I can walk. Leave me alone!”

Winry stepped directly in front of him. “Ed,” she said softly, and he stopped short, inches away from her.

His eyes looked almost brown in the dim light, and they opened wide at her. “Winry?” he said, stupidly.

“You _moron!_ ” she snapped. “Where the hell did you think you’re going?” she asked. Looking stricken, he nodded his head mutely toward something behind her. She looked, and realized that he was indicating the bathroom door. She turned back, hands on her hips. “And it didn’t occur to you to _let Al help you_?” she asked him. “What part of ‘you can’t move around or you might start bleeding again’ didn’t you understand?” She didn’t wait for him to answer. “Now, stop acting like an _idiot_ , or I’m going to _sedate you_ , and believe me, you won’t like it!”

She stepped aside, and indicated for Al to pick his brother up. Ed didn’t resist this time. “Crazy gearhead,” he muttered, as Al carried him away.

“I heard that, alchemy freak,” she sniffed.

When Al brought Ed back into the surgery bay, she insisted on checking his injuries to make sure that he hadn’t torn open any of his stitches.

“I’m fine, Winry,” he protested. “No bleeding. I promise.”

“Not for lack of trying,” she said, and carefully examined him. “We’re going to have to keep checking his vitals,” she told Al when she’d finished. “And _you_ ,” she said, glowering at Ed, her tone dripping venom, “if you feel dizzy or sick, you have to _tell someone_ , okay? Promise me!”

“I promise! I promise!” Ed said, raising his good arm defensively.

“Good,” she said, glaring at him. “Now we’re both going to sleep, and if you wake me up because you’ve done something stupid again, I will get my wrenches out. I don’t care how injured you are.” She turned, and stalked out of the room.

“She’s _crazy_ ,” she heard Ed say, once she was out of the room.

“She’s right, though,” Al pointed out, calmly.

There was a pause. “Yeah,” Ed said. “She usually is.”

Winry smiled, and climbed the stairs to her bedroom.

\------------------------------

She woke the next morning feeling rested, with the late morning sun warm on her skin. Since no one had come to wake her up, she decided to work from the assumption that Ed was neither dying nor in need of immediate assistance. She washed, and dressed, and went downstairs feeling human again. She found Al and Paninya sitting at the table in the kitchen, a plate of pastries between them.

“Winry!” Paninya said, holding out a cup of coffee. “I bring gifts.”

Winry accepted the coffee gratefully and slid into a seat. “Did you get my parts?” she asked, eagerly.

Paninya laughed, and handed her a large paper bag. “I just handed them the list, so if they couldn’t read your handwriting, it’s your own fault.”

Winry started fishing animatedly through the bag, trying to make sure that everything was there and correct. With an exaggerated sigh, Paninya snatched it away again. “Ah, ah,” she said. “Breakfast first. I know how you get around machine parts.”

“I just love automail so much!” Winry admitted, reaching for a pastry. “Good morning, Al,” she said.

“Morning, Winry,” Al said. “Brother is still asleep. He’s snoring,” he said, sounding a little bit put-upon.

She smiled around her pastry. “He does that,” she said, after she swallowed. “If it wasn’t covered in bandages, I bet his tummy would be out, too.”

She spent most of that day working on Ed’s new arm. She had lunch with Ed and Al- more soup, which Ed ate slowly. He was clearly exhausted, and passed out again soon after lunch. If he woke up in the afternoon, Al didn’t interrupt her to say so. At least she hadn’t had to lecture him again, she reflected, as she measured an elbow fitting.

She left her workstation for dinner, and found a sleepy Ed playing checkers with Al in the surgery. “If I could transmute,” he was saying as she entered, “I could make a checkers set with _style_. I wouldn’t even have to change the colors.”

“How are you doing?” she asked, flopping into a chair.

“Fine,” Ed said, waving her concern away. “Just bored. I’m tired of sleeping all the time. And I’m tired of this stupid room.”

He might be tired of the room, she noted, but at least he hadn’t tried to get up and walk out again. “If you’re really bored,” she said, “we can move you out of the workshop. I think you should move up to my room, actually- that way, I can work on your new arm and keep an eye on the two of you at the same time.”

“Oh, we couldn’t put you out of your room, Winry!” That was Al, of course.

“Yes, you can,” Winry said, bluntly. “Do you really think I’m going to let Ed move into a hotel when he’s clearly still intent on acting like a moron about his injuries?”

“You know,” Ed said, rolling his eyes, “I’ve been hurt plenty of times when you weren’t around. Somehow, I managed without you.”

“Yeah, I know!” Winry said, her eyes narrowing. “You manage without me right up until your arm doesn’t work anymore, and then you come right back looking for me to pick up the pieces, every time!”

Ed flinched at that. “Yeah,” he said, looking down. “You’re right. I’m sorry, Winry. I know you’re going out of your way for us.”

His shoulders sagged, and she could see him adding this to his burden of guilt. _My fault_ , he was saying to himself. _My fault_ , about Al. _My fault_ , about Mr. Hughes. _My fault_ , about Scar and her parents. And now, _my fault_ , all over again. She sighed. “I don’t want you to be sorry, Ed,” she said, leaning over. “I just want you to be safe.” She reached out, put her hand on his.

His fingers tightened under hers. “Don’t worry, Winry,” he said, “I’ll keep us safe. I’ll keep all of us safe.”

Winry smiled. It was such a perfectly Ed thing to say- brash, full of bullheaded determination, and effortlessly selfless. “Okay,” she said. “I’m holding you to that.”

\----------------

Al moved Ed upstairs after that, and he put up only token resistance at being carried. It was truly disturbing to see how _tired_ Ed still was. He was asleep almost as soon as he was laid in Winry’s bed.

Winry made herself a bed on the floor, near the window. She was tired too, and the slow, even sound of Ed’s breathing was making her sleepy. “I think I’m going to go to sleep now,” she said to Al, yawning.

“Good,” Al said. “I’ll see you both in the morning.”

“I’m sorry I can’t stay up with you, Al,” she said, sadly. “I know that nights are lonely for you.”

“It’s okay,” Al said, cheerfully. “It’s not very often that I get to have you and Brother both here with me. I’ll just pretend to myself that you’re fighting, and then I won’t feel lonely at all!”

Winry smiled. “Goodnight, Al,” she said.

\-------------

Winry spend most of the next day working on automail. Their customers were anxious about the shop having been closed unexpectedly, but Mr. Garfiel intercepted them all so that she could keep working on Ed’s new arm.

She made her way upstairs every now and again. When Ed wasn’t sleeping, he and Al were mostly talking about homunculi, and Xing, and Ed’s ideas for a new avenue of research. What she heard worried her- she knew they’d never discuss it with her, but she had the suspicion that terrible things had happened since she’d seen the brothers last. _And one day soon, I’ll still be here, but they won’t be anymore_ , the voice of her nightmares said, in the back of her mind. She shook her head. She had to believe that Ed and Al would be okay. She _had_ to.


	4. Chapter 4

The next day, the doctor declared that it was time for Ed to be up and moving at last. After the third time Ed used his newfound independence to come into her workshop and nag her about the arm, she put away her tools and declared it was time for a picnic. She packed a basket (which Al carried), and found a blanket for them to lie on. Ed tried to pretend that he was healed up, but Winry could see how tired he still was. He made excuses to stop and rest twice on the few blocks’ walk to the park. When they arrived, he flopped back on her blanket with a sigh of relief. “Whadja bring, Winry?” he asked, his voice rough with exertion. “I’m starving.”

She opened the basket, and began pulling out the food. “You’re always starving,” she said, rolling her eyes. She passed him a plate with some salad and sliced meats. He frowned, looking at the greens, but started eating.

“How’s the arm coming?” he asked.

She laughed. “You really are in a hurry to get out of here, aren’t you?” she said.

He sighed. “I hate just sitting here. It feels like we should be _doing_ something.”

“Brother’s just upset because we couldn’t find Mei,” Al said.

“Mei?” Winry asked, her voice teasing. “Have you met someone, Ed?”

Ed rolled his eyes. “She doesn’t even _like_ me,” he said. “She’s got a crush on Al, though.”

Al’s armor managed to _cringe_ , somehow. “She does not!” he said, and turned away uncomfortably. “Um. But, anyway, Brother thinks that Xingese alkahestry might help us get our bodies back, and Mei is Xingese and knows alkahestry, so we were trying to find her.”

“Her and that stupid cat of hers,” Ed said, cryptically. He scowled.

“But no luck,” Al said, mournfully. “She left, and we can’t find her. Maybe we’ll have to go to Xing.”

“We _can’t_ go to Xing,” Ed said, rapping his knuckles against Al’s armor. “Besides, I bet she hasn’t left Amestris yet.”

“You might be right, Brother,” Al said, dubiously.

“Of course I’m right!” Ed said, brash and confident. Suddenly, he relaxed, frowning, leaning his head back. “I wish we weren’t stuck here right now, though.”

Winry wanted to take offense at that. This picnic felt very normal, very relaxed. If she didn’t look too closely at Ed’s missing arm or at the white bandages peeking out from underneath his shirt, she could almost tell herself that they were regular kids on a regular outing with no cares in the world. If they were regular kids, the implication that Ed wanted to be somewhere else than here with her would sting. They weren’t regular kids, though. Winry had known for years that even though Ed might come home for maintenance, he’d never stay- not as long as Al was still trapped in that big metal body. “I could have your arm done by tomorrow if I stayed up all night,” she offered. “But you’re not ready to travel yet anyway.”

Ed stretched, then winced, putting his hand to the wounds on his chest. “I guess not,” he said, frowning.

“Eat your liver,” Winry told him, pointing to the plate she’d given him.

Ed stopped with a slice halfway to his mouth. “You’re feeding me _liver_?” he asked, looking horrified at his fork. “What’s _wrong_ with you, Winry?”

“What’s _wrong_ with me?” she echoed, tartly. “I’m just trying to feed you some of the foods that Doctor Hess said would help you recover. I thought you were in a hurry to get out of here!”

“That doesn’t mean I want to eat _liver_ ,” he protested.

“Don’t be stupid,” she snapped at him. “You ate half the plate before I told you what it was.”

“She’s right, Brother,” Al put in, sensibly. “It must taste okay, or you wouldn’t have eaten it. And the doctor did say it would be good for your injuries.”

“ _Fine_ ,” Ed said, scowling. He put a bite in his mouth, chewed and swallowed. “You don’t want to put this on your list, though, Al,” he said, darkly.

“I don’t know,” Al said, loftily. “If I was injured, and Winry made _me_ liver to eat, I bet I would like it a lot.”

 _If Al could get injured_ , Winry could see Ed thinking. _If Al could eat_. “I bet you would,” Ed said, cheerfully, putting a hand on Al’s armored leg. “At least she didn’t bring milk, huh, Al?”

“Who says I didn’t?” Winry asked, slyly.

“Winry!” Ed whined. “I hate that stuff! I won’t drink it!”

Winry laughed. “That’s why you’ll stay a shrimp forever, Ed,” she told him, and that was enough to start the screaming. Twenty minutes later, they were still shouting, breathless with anger and laughter both.

Al pulled them apart from each other, holding the scruffs of their necks with his big black hands. “Are you _done_ yet?” he asked, mournfully.

Winry collapsed into a fit of giggles. “I’m done,” she said. “Ed?”

Winded, Ed waved his assent, and collapsed back onto the blanket. “I’m still not drinking it,” he said, stubbornly.

“I didn’t even bring any milk,” Winry confessed, grinning.

“ _What?_ ” Ed asked, incredulous.

“Don’t start again,” Al said, pleading.

“I’m sorry that you were injured,” Winry said, suddenly. “But I’m not sorry you’re here. Both of you. I can’t think when we last got to just-” she broke off, not sure how to phrase it. “I’m having a good time,” she tried. She laid back on the blanket, looking at the sky.

“It’s nice out here,” Ed agreed. “The weather is really nice.” He wrinkled his nose. “Fine, the liver is okay, too.”

“I know you’ll be leaving again as soon as you can,” Winry said, softly. “But I’m enjoying this for now.”

“We are too,” Al said, earnestly.

Winry smiled. “I’ll tell you what I did bring, though,” she said. “I made an apple pie.”

Later, lying on his back, eating pie from a plate on his stomach, Ed grinned. “I think it might be better than Miss Gracia’s,” he said. Winry blushed.

“It’s definitely going to the _top_ of my list,” Al agreed.

\-----------------------------

Ed slept well past noon the next day. It was a long time to be unconscious, but at least it wasn't the still and motionless sleep of the seriously injured. He slept like he usually did- turning all around and getting himself twisted up in the covers. Al watched him with helpless affection. "Brother seems better," he commented. Ed ate a mountain of food when he woke up, and Winry had to agree.

That night, there was a lightning storm. Rain pounded on the roof and windows of Atelier Garfiel, and the sky was lit by flashes of light. The three of them gathered in Winry’s room. Al sat next to the window, and Ed and Winry flopped on the bed, watching the rain fall. "It looks like alchemy," Ed said, wistfully, as the lightning arced through the sky. His good hand curved unconsciously into the shape of a transmutation circle.

Winry looked out the window, watching that sheer power lance through the sky. “I guess it does,” she said. _And what does that make you and Al?_ she thought suddenly, _That you can make lightning with your fingertips?_ She shivered.

“It makes _me_ think of the night that baby was born,” Al said, thoughtfully.

“This storm isn’t nearly as bad as that one was,” Winry said, remembering that night- the fear, the exhaustion, the wonder and joy. She smiled.

“That was amazing,” Ed said, and she knew that he was remembering those things, too.

“ _Winry_ was amazing,” Al said. “Sometimes, when I’m scared, I think of that night and how brave you were, Winry.”

Winry blushed. “It wasn’t brave,” she said. “Satella was the one who had to be brave. I was just trying to help.”

“Still,” Ed said, looking at her, his expression thoughtful.

They were quiet for a little while, then. Ed and Al watched the lightning. Winry watched Ed, the light flashing against his pale eyes. He looked sad, and restless, and contemplative. “We can fit your arm on tomorrow,” she said, reluctantly. She knew that Ed would be off as soon as his arm was reattached, no matter how wounded he still was. Part of her wanted to drag the repairs out, to keep him here a little bit longer. She shook her head. She could support Ed in moving forward, or she could try to keep him safe. She couldn’t do both, and she had made her choice years ago.

“Good,” Ed said, and she wasn’t sure if it was her imagination that he sounded a little reluctant.

“I can finish your leg repairs then, too,” she added. “But don’t go getting into any big fights! You really will damage your ports if you keep taking hard hits on your automail. And you’re still not really healed, so you _better_ take it slow, anyway. And-”

“Fine, fine,” Ed said, waving her off. He flopped back on the bed so that his head was next to her lap. Looking at her, he held his hand up to her face, almost brushing her cheek with his fingertips. “I’ll take it slow,” he said. “You can even pack up some liver to send with me, okay?”

“Okay,” she said, almost a whisper. “Okay.”

\-------------------------------

Ed slept late again the next day. He wandered downstairs sometime in the early afternoon. Winry was busy adjusting Mr. Porter's arm, but Ed didn't interrupt; he just sat quietly in a chair in the corner of the room.

"There you go," Winry told Mr. Porter when she was done. "You shouldn't have any more problems with the elbow clicking. Just try to keep up on your maintenance better!" He sheepishly agreed, flexing his newly-repaired to test the range of motion.

When he was gone, she looked over to Ed. He was slumped against the wall, his arm wrapped around his torso and his head down. His golden hair hung loose around his face; he'd apparently not bothered to pull it back this morning.

"Ed?" she said, softly, not wanting to wake him if he was asleep.

He stirred. "I'm awake," he said, opening his eyes and yawning. “I'm just trying to get in as much sleep as I can before I go."

"Are you headed back to Central after this?" she asked, putting her tools in order.

"East," Ed said. “We got word that Mei was sighted at the East train station. Maybe if we go there, we might be able to pick up her trail.”

Winry nodded. “You’re leaving tomorrow, then?”

Ed shrugged. “As long as I’ve got an arm that works,” he said.

“You can lie down then, if you’re ready,” she said. “I can do the installation now.” She started laying out the tools she needed for the job.

He unbuttoned his shirt. It was awkward one-handed, but Winry knew that he had enough experience not to need help. He shrugged out of the shirt, set it on the chair, and laid down on the table. Winry pulled the light over. Automatically, she started the physical checks. She needed to make sure that the automail port wasn’t putting undue strain on Ed’s spine, that his muscles were strong enough to bear the weight, that there were no stress fractures in his shoulder or rib bones. He submitted to her prodding without comment, staring off into the distance. “You’ve been keeping up with your exercises,” she said. Automail users had to do physical therapy the rest of their lives or risk having the weight of the automail damage them.

“Yeah,” he said. “I try to keep in shape.”

He was. His chest was lean and well-muscled, the result of lots of practice and far too much fighting. The bandages on his chest were also the result of that, she supposed. “I’d like to look at your chest,” she said. Ed shrugged.

Carefully, she unwound the gauze over his wounds. They were still weeping a little, she noted, but not too much. The stitches were ugly and black against the paleness of his skin. She examined them closely. The edges of his wounds were puffy and red, but not more so than was usual for this stage of healing. At some point, weeks or months from now, this would all be healed. He’d have another set of scars to show for this adventure to match the sword-cuts on his shoulders, and the rake-marks across his belly, and the cut over his eye. She sighed. “I asked Doctor Hess to come check on you this evening,” she told him. “He won’t take your stitches out, though. You’ll have to get someone in East to do it.”

“Or take them out myself,” Ed said.

“Don’t you dare!” Winry scolded, brandishing a wrench from her table. “Edward Elric-”

“Fine, fine,” Ed said, raising his hand in surrender. “Can we put my arm back on now?”

She glared at him. “Let me bandage you up again first,” she said, putting the wrench down. She set about rebandaging him, careful not to touch his wounds or contaminate the clean new dressings. Then she went to the shelf and picked up Ed’s new arm. She’d put the finishing touches on it early that morning. it was gleaming, beautiful- the best work she’d done yet. She and Ed were quiet as she put it into place and made the first adjustments. She wondered what he was thinking about, with his eyes so distant.

“I’m going to connect the nerves now,” she said. “Hold still, okay?” She had seen adult men scream and weep through this process. Ed never did; she was grateful for that. Even without having a screaming client, this was the hardest task an automail mechanic had to master. If done improperly, it could mean that the client would have numbness, or tingling, or loss of function- or chronic pain. To make things harder, it not only had to be done perfectly, it had to be done quickly or the nerve arrays would never synch properly. It was a difficult, delicate art. Winry had been practicing since she was 11 years old.

Ed gritted his teeth, his body tense, trying to keep still so that she could finish. “Could you hurry it up?” he complained.

“I’m going as fast as I can,” she said automatically, her focus on the automail. “Stop whining!” The complaining, she knew, was Ed’s way of coping. Telling him to shut up was her way of letting him pretend she didn’t know how much it hurt him. She slipped the last connector into place, tightened the collar, and synched the array. Ed sighed, his body relaxing as the pain faded. Experimentally, he held his arm out, rotating the wrist and bending the elbow. “It’s a little lighter,” he commented.

“I redesigned the exoskeleton,” Winry said. “It should be a little more efficient now.”

“Huh,” Ed said, appreciatively, bending and stretching the arm.

She did the needed repairs on his leg then, too. It took her most of an hour. She and Ed spent the time in companionable silence. She was focused on the machinery, and he was focused on... whatever it was that was preoccupying him, she supposed. She refused to worry about that. Right now, she had automail, and she had Ed, and she had the both of them warm and safe and _here_ , and she wasn’t going to think about tomorrow at all.

\---------------------

Mr. Garfiel came over that night, accompanied by Paninya and several bags of groceries. He cooked them some of the spicy Southern food he’d grown up with. “At least we can send you off with a decent meal in your bellies,” he told Ed and Al while he sashayed around the kitchen. “You’re taking the leftovers, too- no arguments!”

Mr. Garfiel was entirely charming through dinner, and even though Ed inevitably got into a fight with Paninya, it was a short fight with only minor property damage. Winry took a moment to look around the table. Al was gleaming, newly repaired by Ed’s alchemy. Ed was smiling, and eating, and arguing. Mr. Garfiel was sipping his wine and laughing, leaning back in his chair. Paninya was leaning forward, both elbows on the table, debating some point with Ed. Winry smiled. She was an orphan, she thought. An only child. She could have been alone in the world, but somehow, she was surrounded by family.

“You boys,” she suddenly realized Mr Garfiel was saying, “You had better look after yourselves. If you don’t, you’ll have a whole _town_ full of people angry at you.”

“This whole town is angry at me anyway,” Ed said, grinning, his teeth sharp.

Garfiel waved that away, pointing at Ed emphatically. “Not nearly as angry as they’ll be if they think you’ve upset their Winry,” he said.

“Mr. Garfiel,” Winry said, scandalized, laughing.

Garfiel looked seriously at her. “Oh, don’t think I’m joking, Winry. If these boys make you cry, I won’t be responsible for what your clients might do to them.” Mr. Garfiel’s eyes were sparkling.

Ed scowled. “ _Who_ says I’m going to make Winry cry?” he asked, belligerently. Winry blushed a little at his tone.

Mr. Garfiel gave up and laughed. “Brothers, you’re welcome back any time. Just try not to get so banged up!”

“I do try, Mr. Garfiel,” Al said, his tone put-upon, “But Brother can’t stay out of trouble.”

“ _I_ can’t stay out of trouble?” Ed groused, and then they were off again.

Winry looked at Mr. Garfiel, and he smiled at her. “Honey,” he said, leaning over. “At least you picked an _exciting_ one.”

\--------------------------

Their train left before lunchtime the next day. Winry walked with them to the station. She couldn’t keep from watching Ed’s gait, looking for any residual problems with his automail. He still looked more tired than she would have liked, but at least he was on his feet and moving. When they reached the platform, Ed and Al turned to her.

“Thanks again, Winry,” Al said.

Winry smiled, and embraced him. “It was good to see you, Al,” she said.

“Yeah,” Ed put in. “Thanks, Winry.”

She turned, and hugged Ed too. She buried her face in his shoulder, not letting go for a long moment. He smelled like machine oil and ozone and sweat and dust, and she breathed him in, trying to burn that scent into her memory. “Hey,” he said, pulling away, “We’ll be back before you know it- and in our real bodies, too!”

“I know,” Winry said, and she smiled at him, as broadly as she could.

“Winry?” Ed said, as they were getting into the train car.

“Yeah?” she asked.

“Watch yourself, okay?” he said, and scowled. “Just... be careful.”

She frowned, not sure what to make of that. “You too, Ed,” she said.

She waved goodbye as the train pulled out of the station. She walked back to Atelier Garfiel, her hands swinging at her side. She had a lot of work to catch up on.


End file.
